Jennie About to Be by Elisabeth Ogilvie Page B

back in the armchair, and smiled beatifically at Jennie.
    â€œBut Nigel—I mean, Captain Gilchrist,” Jennie blurted out, “had never—I mean, we’ve never discussed—the word has never been uttered between us!” She was so hot she wanted to tear open the neck of her habit.
    â€œNigel’s respect for ritual, remember. He must speak to your uncle. You’re agitated, aren’t you? Your cheeks are flaming. You aren’t coolly laughing at this preposterous scene. That means that if the word had never been uttered, it has certainly been thought . Let me put it to you this way, and please give me the perfectly candid answer that I expect from Jennie Hawthorne of the honest north. If Nigel asked you tomorrow to run away to Gretna Green, would you go?”
    â€œDear Mater,” said Nigel, “I’m beginning to think that if you’d elope to Gretna Green, my life would be considerably less complicated.”
    She ignored him. “Would you, Jennie Hawthorne?”
    â€œYes,” said Jennie.
    Lady Geoffrey waved at Nigel. “There you are, my love. You’d better run along now. Bamber Raleigh is expected, and we’re driving out to Richmond Park, not to Gretna Green.”
    â€œA pity,” said Nigel. He leaned over and kissed her. “I know now why certain evil persons threw their mamas into dungeons. It was the only way to stop them talking.”
    â€œGood day, Lady Geoffrey,” Jennie said sedately.
    â€œDon’t forget that fantastic hat. . . . You have good color, and that means healthy blood. You’re thin but not spindling. I like that. It’s the lean horse that wins the race.”
    â€œSo it was an inspection after all!”
    â€œMy dear, I wouldn’t be a human mother if I didn’t have some concern for the mother of my grandchildren. I’ll be glad to see Nigel settled. London is full of sharks, all female, and Nigel can’t resist them any more than they can resist him.”
    â€œLet us leave, Jennie,” said Nigel, “before she produces a clergyman from a secret passage and marries us by force. I shan’t see you tonight, Mama. I’ll be on duty.”
    In the foyer Jennie stopped before a mirror to pin her hat. Nigel whistled “The White Cockade” and slapped his gloves against his thigh; Gertrude helped Jennie, smiling all the while, and Jennie was glad of the quick, capable fingers: her own felt all loose and unstrung.
    When the front door closed behind them, Jennie said at once, “Your mother proposed for you!”
    â€œThat’s the Mater,” he agreed. “Always rushing her fences.”
    â€œBut I accepted!” she said. From the roadway the horses and Dickon observed them with unblinking interest. “Nigel—Captain—it was done under duress so it doesn’t count. You’re quite free.”
    â€œBut I don’t want to be,” he said imperturbably. “I had already told Mama that you are the girl I intend to marry.”
    She said in giddy bewilderment, “Am I dreaming this? What if my uncle forbids it?” Panic.
    â€œHe won’t. I shall speak to him tonight.”
    â€œI thought you were on duty tonight.”
    â€œThat is the duty,” he replied. “Shall we ride now?”
    When he escorted her into the foyer at Brunswick Square, Aunt Higham came out from the morning room all smiles, to ask if he would take a glass of wine; instead he asked her very formally if he might meet with Mr. Higham in the evening. She at once strangled her smile and became stately. She was sure that Mr. Higham would be happy to meet with Captain Gilchrist.
    Halfway up the stairs, there were the children: Charlotte transfixed, her hand to her breast, a nymph in sprigged dimity; Marjorie and Ann giggling and shoving at each other, not understanding the scene but electrified by it. Derwent’s small, pugnacious face was puzzled above the